We may fairly say that the games industry of today owes a great deal to the many insightful minds of the past. For as with any creative endeavor, we rely on the context provided by history to judge the merit of our games. We heap adorations and accolades upon game designers whose groundbreaking works have become springboards for entire genres of games. This is all well and good.

You want to know how hardcore I am? I burnt my hand from my thumb to my index finger in a tragic oven accident and I still played Dead or Alive 4 for three hours on Sunday. I simply alternated playing and holding a cold can of Ginger Ale to ease the searing pain as I tried over and over to beat that damn transparent, teleporting end boss.

I have a not-so-secret confession to make: I love American Idol.
Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm a shameless corporate whore who clearly lacks both taste and maturity, and every time I watch American Idol, I bring my country one step closer to becoming a complete cultural wasteland. I know. I can't help it. I love American Idol.

Should you choose to darken the doorstep of your local bookstore and query the pretty, yet tantalizingly brainy, girl behind the counter wearing the Lisa Loeb glasses as to where you might find the 2006 Gamer's Tome of Ultimate Wisdom, an Almanac of Pimps, Orcs, and Lightsabers, not only will you probably not be going home with said girl's phone number, but, you might also have trouble